


distant memories of a world that shined

by jinchav



Series: we can be heroes (just for one day) [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Bad Ending, Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Introspection, Lenalee Lee-centric, Mentions of religion, One-Shot, Reminiscing, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, War, dark themes, mentions of God - Freeform, negativity, pessimism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 10:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinchav/pseuds/jinchav
Summary: Lenalee's the last exorcist alive by the end of the Holy War, but they've already lost.





	distant memories of a world that shined

**Author's Note:**

> edited 5/5/20
> 
> title is lyric taken from brightdown by nami tamaki (which is actually the second opening song for dgm!)

Shuddering puffs of breath escapes Lenalee’s dry, cracked lips as she leans against an almost rotten wooden panel. Heavy was the creeping pressure of the end, her shoulders sagged and her knees buckled as she struggles to stay upright. 

She dug her boots into the ground — the cold, dirty ground. All that ash and burnt debris slowly falling from the sky. When did it last rain? It was as if the heavens stopped crying, for they knew it was the end, and when the end came, the heavens could stop watching over this godforsaken earth. 

Godforsaken. What a funny term, Lenalee hacks up a chuckle with blood painting the air. 

This world was godforsaken. God forsook this world. From the moment the Akuma appeared, there was simply no God. 

Lenalee sobbed as she crumbled to the ground. What a useless war she had fought. She wished the ground would swallow her whole and let her join her friends. 

She wailed as she thought of Lavi, losing himself to his emotions and to this _godforsaken_ war. Lenalee never found out exactly how he died, but she saw his body— limp and mangled in a chair after years of torture. 

She dug her dirty nails into the skins of her forearm, scraping and crying and allowing grime to mix with blood— yet the sting was nowhere near as painful as seeing Kanda sprawled everywhere, dead and dyeing himself into the snow. 

She thought of Allen, ever so sweet and ever smiling, even as he was dying. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his silver eyes losing its shine into a dull grey. 

Fuck, how long had this battle raged on for? Lenalee was _tired_.

Fatigue began to settle upon her like a heavy rain cloud, as she continued to mourn with thundering gasps and drizzling tears. Lenalee was weak, she was stupid, and she was fucking exhausted. What was the point of this damned war? She’d been fighting for a dead world her entire life. 

“Found you,” a sickly sweet voice sang in her ears. 

Lenalee snaps her eyes open, alarmed to see Road right in her face. 

She held a mocking smile and a taunting glint in her golden eyes— Lenalee’s body burned with rage as she fought back the urge to turn those glimmering orbs to match Allen’s lifeless ones.

“Why don’t we play for a bit?” Road laughs gleefully, suddenly looking deranged and bloodthirsty. 

“Just kill me,” Lenalee spat. She scrambled to her feet. “You win. The Noah fucking win! Kill me!” 

She screamed as sudden pain bursted from her shoulder— a candle. 

“I will, but I want to _play_,” Road curled her fingers against her lips. “Do you remember when we first met? With Allen and that time girl? When you were my doll?” 

Oh, so it was like that. 

“I do. And I remember Allen kicking the shit out of you.” 

Road tutted at that, languidly flicking another smouldering candle at Lenalee’s other shoulder. She grit her teeth and held in her scream. 

“That’s not fun!” Road tossed another candle, pouting. Lenalee grunts but doesn’t give the minx what she wants. “It’s boring if I don’t hear you scream!” 

Candle after candle— weren’t those supposed to represent some sort of… fuck, something symbolic and warmth of life? 

And when the wick keeps dripping and the flame flickers out, what is that, defeat? 

Lenalee certainly felt defeated. It wasn’t ever victory that she needed. Victory was for the Black Order. 

It wasn’t the world she wanted to save. That was for the Black Order. 

But defeat? As it settles into her senses and as she hangs her head— yes, that feels right. 

She’s done. Defeated. 

So tired she was, so tired of losing, losing everything, losing everything.

The sharp tip of Road’s specialised candles tilts Lenalee’s chin up, forcing their gazes to meet. 

“Poor little exorcist,” she hummed, straightening the candle to align right under Lenalee’s chin. “I was always fond of you, sweet Lenalee. Besides Allen, of course!” She giggled lightly, leaning in.

Then she harshly pressed her lips against Lenalee’s chapped ones— then quickly forced the pointed candle up, and up, and _up_, pleased with the cracks of bone and spurts of blood. 

“But I won’t miss either of you.”


End file.
